


heavy metals

by ghostwit



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hand Jobs, It's fine it's about the. intimacy . the affection ., M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sleepy Sex, Though <3 much luv, What's the difference between frotting and grinding? How clothed you are?, and YES more hand-holding. Yes they're having sex but that's not the important pa, halfway between a handie and a blowie as usua dhjyukh, here's the nasty part my bad., two incidents! wow!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26037961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwit/pseuds/ghostwit
Summary: Roger smells just faintly of alcohol as he stumbles in with a heavy tread, sugary stuff that leaves sticky little lines down Rayleigh's chin when he licks it into his mouth.
Relationships: Gol D. Roger/Silvers Rayleigh
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	heavy metals

**Author's Note:**

> (waters this tag) grow... GROW...!

Roger smells just faintly of alcohol as he stumbles in with a heavy tread, sugary stuff that leaves sticky little lines down Rayleigh's chin when he licks it into his mouth. God knows who was awake at this hour to sit up and fix those stupid little cocktails with their captain--Rayleigh has long since adjusted to the man's erratic tendencies, opting to take his sleep as he pleases rather constantly tailing his partner's capricious whims. 

He doesn't speak, not really, muttering happy nonsense as he kicks his boots off with enough force to have his ankles _crk-_ ing with the jolly shake of his calf, still-belted pants slid off his leg to bounce off the edge of the bed before slumping to the floor. His shirt is still on--albeit unbuttoned--when he slides into bed, fluttering against Rayleigh's skin, just barely stiffened by the salty breeze and heady with the smell of those drinks. Roger slides a leg over Rayleigh's hips with a pleased grumble.

"You're hard," Rayleigh mumbles, voice dragging low and rusty in his throat.

"Yeh-huh," Teeth on the nape of Rayleigh's neck, sobering in the anticipation of a sting that never comes--no sharp nip, no pressure, just a smile wrapped gingerly around a sliver of pale skin, a nose pressing into his hairline. It makes Rayleigh smile, something dopey and slow, even when Roger slides forward to mold their hips together and grind against Rayleigh's ass, warm through his boxers. Roger kicks his calf, a little nudge asking permission, and Rayleigh just snickers, blinks fast to keep the ease of sleep from whisking out of his head.

"You miss me?" Roger chuckles into his skin, reaches around to fish Rayleigh out of his boxers--a shake of the head, _no_ \--before sliding his palms up the flat planes of his abdomen, a touch gentler than he usually is with those broad hands of his, using the leverage of his hooked leg to grind against Rayleigh's backside. Somewhere, absently, in the back of Rayleigh's sleep-addled mind, he likes that a lot.

"O' course," spoken into the pillow, cheeky intent falling flat with the way tiredness pulls earnesty from him in the croak of a voice. Roger laughs quietly, kisses his shoulder as he slides further over his partner, Rayleigh's spine arching just a little to accommodate. His hand slips, down from Rayleigh's abdomen and along the bed, searching--lube, maybe? Rayleigh's not sure until those calloused fingers press against his own from where they're thrown across the mattress, fitting themselves between the cracks as he presses his palm to the back of Rayleigh's, _oh._ A contented sigh escapes him, smile lazy and sweet even with the way Roger's got his other hand wrapped loosely around his dick, smearing the head on the small of Rayleigh's back and over his thigh with a sigh of his own. His breath evens out, stretching thin and flat to float soft from between his lips, eyelids drooping. 

"Love you, partner," Rayleigh mutters, half-breath (Roger hears, has always been good at listening), earns himself a kiss just below his ear and a squeeze to their joined hands. It’s nice, Roger’s breath sweetened with grenadine and indelicate as it wafts over his throat, quiet groans rumbling from low in his belly. 

He’d chastise himself, how far he’s fallen to positively relish in the way this clumsy oaf’s fingers twitch over his, the way the catch in his throat as he fucks his fist and drools over his skin makes Rayleigh’s heart stutter in his chest with an overwhelming fondness, but he’s too damn sleepy. Warmth all the way up from his core, warmth where he smothers him, half his still-clothed torso thrown over to keep his grip on Rayleigh’s fingers and radiating from where Roger’s skin just barely brushes his as he hunches and grinds against him, smoothing all that sticky, all too-human adoration over into sleepiness. 

"L-love you, too," Roger whines, between groans, pressing his forehead so it plasters sweaty hair between Rayleigh's shoulder blades and squeezing his thigh with his own. To just be together, uncomplicated and messy and _warm_ as they are. 

It really is nice, goddamn him. 

  
  


When Rayleigh comes to, pale blue light trickling through the porthole, Roger's shirt is half off, one sleeve slipped loose and cold-tacky on his skin with dried come. Gross, really, especially with Roger snoring loud in his ear, both arms wrapped fully around Rayleigh to possessively curl all nine feet of height in around him. Rayleigh groans--if Roger can interrupt his sleep, he has no qualms doing the same--and wriggles in place, testing the give of Roger's thigh looped over his, sweaty skin to skin where the blonde's boxers ride up. He drools, rubbing his cheek and abrasive facial hair against Rayleigh’s shoulder with a barely-stirring hum.

“Hey,” he elbows him, nailing him right over the rib, bone firm over loose muscle and fat. “Let me up.” He tamps down a smile at the louder grumble he gets in turn, pulls his leg up to keep the air of irritation going. Before he can drive that foot down, he’s got an iron-grip on his ankle, Roger flipping over him to fully smother him. 

“G’morning,” he chirps, leaning down to scrape his teeth along Rayleigh’s jaw, laying a bruising bite to that same little spot under his ear as last night that has him keening, absurdly. 

“Roger,” Rayleigh gasps, just a touch offended, back arching reflexively to press them chest-to-chest, the cloth of his shirt almost abrasive on sensitive skin. His morning hard-on presses nicely into Roger’s thigh, and the glint in the man’s eye as he slides down the length of his body says he’s noticed the same. Lips and teeth and tongue, biting firm around the places the jut of his ribs pulls his skin thin, soothing over the blooms of pain. Fingers, rough when they slide his boxers down his hips rather than opting to slip him through the slit for easy access, like they want to devour him whole. No delicacy, no foreplay. _Want._

It’s too much so early, while Rayleigh’s still trying to blink the sleep from his eyes and Roger stares up at him like he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. _Absurd, really._

Roger takes him in that sweat-sticky hand of his with an enthusiasm, eyes unusually bright and signature grin wide until pulls his lips down over his teeth to press a kiss to the curl of his fist that makes Rayleigh’s throat unspool something inhuman from deep in his belly, strangled and burning. 

“Go on, then.” Roger says with another grin, tongue tracing broad and flat around where his fingers meet the heated skin of Rayleigh’s head. His mustache brushes the inside of Rayleigh’s thighs, and the blond can feel the gentle rub of his dense arm hair against his navel as he cranks his wrist at an absolutely punishing pace. Kisses, adoring and gentle, just the plush of his lip on sensitive flesh running a hot contrast to the wet glide of his palm. Rayleigh’s face screws up, eyebrows drawn and mouth slack in a pant; equal parts confusion and pleasure, the latter quickly overtaking the former.

Too much, _more_ , too fast, _more_ , _please_ , too warm and--his thighs go stiff with another choked off cry, hands fisting white-knuckled in the sheets beneath him and arching up to crush Roger’s cheek to his skin, tongue lapping outward and one wide hand pinning his hip to the mattress to catch him as he falls apart.

_“What,”_ he pants, chest heaving as Roger loosens his grip, smearing his hand on the sheet and trailing his tongue over his inner thighs to catch any excess come, “was that for.”

Roger shrugs between his still-quivering legs, smiling with sedate eyes as if he hadn’t woken Rayleigh up with a really _solid_ orgasm. “Thank you,” he says, nuzzling him absently as he slides Rayleigh’s dampened boxers up. “For last night,” he adds, a clarifying afterthought.

This does nothing for Rayleigh, who knits his brows and snickers, “For letting you grind on me?” His intuition, especially for Roger, is second to none, but he’s not a fan of making assumptions without ample evidence. 

“Yeah,” Roger crawls back up the bed, and Rayleigh pushes his arms away before he can trap him in another bear-hug, tempting as it may be. The room is lit in full already, and he can hear the tread of crewmates from beyond the door. He wonders if they heard anything with a wry chuckle, time on the seas melting embarrassment into familiarity. “I wa’ horny and you’re real hot.” Roger snatches Rayleigh’s pillow from beneath his head with a half-yawn, gathers it to his chest in place of the blonde. “ ‘s good?” he nods into the pillow, lashes fluttering dark on his face.

Well, now’s as good a time as any to be getting up. As soon as he can feel the bones in his legs again. He twitches between his thighs at the thought of that. 

“Thanks, captain,” he scoffs, and simply because he can’t help himself, leans down to give Roger a half-returned kiss as the younger slips back into the embrace of sleep; Roger settling into bed again and him preparing to rise. 

Roger’s smiling and snoring, muttering noises jolly and angry in turns in his sleep by the time Rayleigh strips and redresses for the morning. Knowing his captain is sound, he reaches down to take his hand in his, pressing a lingering kiss to his knuckles before heading out. _Thanks, huh?_

Maybe one day he’ll understand these whims, the utter generosity and breadth of Roger’s passions, particularly so where he’s concerned, but he doesn’t fret on it--not particularly looking forward to that day, either, must mean he’s finally gone just as insane as his partner. Gaban ambles past him in the hall with a wolfish grin, “What are you so pleased about this morning, Vice?” 

Rayleigh rolls his eyes, and when Gaban feigns a high, girlish moan as he flicks the purpling mark below his ear, the blonde kicks him in the ankles hard enough to make him stumble. They both laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just tag-filling, bro. Just that sort of awkward (though I suppose this one wasn't too awkward) brand of porn I'm fond of writing, lol. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you have any thoughts at all, I'm really happy to hear any sort of feedback at all :) 
> 
> hazeism.tumblr.com


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